


The Reformed Ex-Assassins Club

by remy (iamremy)



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:10:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/remy
Summary: For someone who's gone on countless field ops, Bucky sure is way too nervous about it now. Probably because it's the first time he's doing it for the good guys, and messing it up might mean that all this "new beginnings" shit is just that - shit, and he'll never grow out of being the Winter Soldier.Thank God for Clint, huh?





	The Reformed Ex-Assassins Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SPNxBookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPNxBookworm/gifts).



> sooooo i've actually been planning this one a while, because my wifey is beginning her internship tomorrow and she's a wee bit nervous about it. i just hope this fic helps soothes ur nerves a bit? if bucky can do it, YOU CAN TOO!
> 
> you're going to be amazing, okay? you've got this, and you're going to be absolutely kickass <3

Bucky can't remember the last time he was so nervous that it actually made him tremble, and yet here he is, right hand stretched out in front of him, his eyes tracking every minute tremor coursing through his fingers. It's not a good feeling, especially when coupled with the way his heart is hammering inside his chest and his blood seems to be screaming with adrenaline. It feels like he's already in the middle of battle, which is strange because they're still on the Quinjet, and he hasn't even suited up yet.

Just to give himself something to do, Bucky begins to get into his tac vest, keeping his movements slow and methodical so that his shaking fingers don't mess it up. He's all alone in his corner of the jet, with everyone else being up front with Steve and Tony, so he lets his guard down - just a  _little_ bit - and extends his hand in front of himself again once he's done with the vest.

Still shaking.

"Fuck," he sighs.

It's not that this is the first ever op he's going on. Far from it. He's gone on so many ops as the Winter Soldier that he can't even  _remember_ them all, doesn't even want to. But this is going to be his first op where he's actually fighting for the good guys, where his skillset is being used for something  _good_ , and he doesn't want to screw it up. He's only just gotten cleared to join the team on missions, and he knows if he messes up, all that shit about new beginnings will be just that -  _shit_. It's not going to mean anything at all if he still has to stay back while everyone else gets to go on missions. He's painfully aware that they're all just assets to SHIELD, and if he's not useful, then... well, they may just decide he's way more trouble than he's worth.

Shit, his hand is shaking worse.  _Good job, Barnes, you asshole_ , he thinks sarcastically.  _Work yourself up some more, see if **that** helps_.

"Buck?"

He looks up so fast he thinks he hears his neck actually creak. Clint is standing in the doorway to the weapons room, leaning against it. His casual pose is in direct contrast to the concern on his face. "You okay?" he asks.

"I don't know," Bucky answers quietly, and lets his breath out on a shaky exhale. He sits down heavily on the nearest bench, leans forward with his elbows on his knees, and says again, "I don't know."

There is silence for a moment. Bucky watches Clint without raising his head - which means he can only really just see Clint's boots - for a few seconds, and then Clint's pushing off against the doorway and coming closer. He sits down next to Bucky on the bench with a soft  _thump_ and says, "Nervous?"

Bucky lets out a derisive snort. Understatement. "A bit," he says wryly.

Clint hums thoughtfully, and then stretches out on the bench, his elbow knocking against Bucky's left arm. "I get it," he says.

Bucky raises his head just a bit, and turns it to the side so he can look at Clint. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," confirms Clint, and gives him a wry smile. "Was in your boots not that long ago, you know. Kept wondering what SHIELD would do to me if I screwed up."

"And?" Bucky asks.

"And I did fine," Clint says. "I was scared as fuck, but I did fine. Second mission, though, that I did screw up," he adds. " _Spectacularly_."

"What happened?"

Clint grins. "Got made 'cause my French accent's awful."

Bucky can't help but laugh at that. "Really?"

Clint nods, eyes shining with mirth. "Yeah, really. Anyway, SHIELD didn't like, feed me to the lions or anything. I just got Coulson's patented  _I am disappointed_ expression and a dressing down, but that was about it. They've never asked me to play French again, though."

"Now I kinda wanna see your Frenchman impression," says Bucky.

"Trust me," Clint tells him. "You  _really_ don't."

"That bad?" 

"Ask Nat, she'll tell you," Clint says with a grin. There is a momentary silence, and then he continues, "Look, Buck, you're going to be fine, all right. We're all here with you. You got nothing to be worried about, okay?"

Bucky exhales slowly though his nose. "Yeah," he says. "See, I  _know_ that. I'm just havin' a hard time believing it, if that makes sense."

"It does," Clint says with a nod. "It really does. But that's okay too. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?"

Bucky levels an incredulous stare at him. "You really wanna say that?"

"I'm serious," Clint tells him. "For real, Buck. Worst case scenario."

"I screw up," Bucky says slowly. He doesn't get how this is supposed to make him feel better.

"And then what?" prods Clint.

"And then, I dunno, someone dies?" Bucky tries to keep the irritation from his voice, but fails. His heart is pounding so loud he's sure Clint can hear it.

"That could happen on any mission, though," Clint tells him. "Fuck, it could happen even at home. Did you know 18,000 Americans die every year from injuries that happen at home?"

Bucky stares at him. "Why do you know this?"

"Sam told me," he says with a shrug. "Because I tripped over my own shoelaces and fell down some stairs."

"Holy shit," says Bucky in disbelief, and then laughs. "For real?"

"It's not funny," Clint tells him, elbowing him in the side. "It's  _not_ \- okay, fine, it's a little funny,  _stop laughing_ -"

"I can't believe they let you handle weapons," Bucky says. "You are a  _disaster_."

"I am," agrees Clint, "and they still let me go on missions, don't they? Look, Buck, let's be real, you probably will screw up at some point or another. But you know what, we all have. Yeah, even Cap. And that's okay. It happens. No one's going to think any less of you for it."

"Even considering who I am?" Bucky asks wryly.

Clint nods. "Yeah, even considering that. 'Sides, not like anyone's really got a leg to stand on here, huh? Nat and me, we're both ex-assassins too, aren't we? And we managed to leave that behind. You will too. Hell, maybe we'll start a club, huh? The Reformed Ex-Assassins Club. You can be President."

"You think so, huh?" Bucky says with a snort. His hand, he is surprised to find, is absolutely still where it rests on the bench.

"Yeah, I do," Clint says. "I got your back, Buck."

"You're only sayin' that 'cause you like looking at my ass," Bucky accuses, but he's grinning.

"Can you blame me?" Clint says, throwing his hands up in surrender. "It's a  _great_ one."

"Not as good as my boyfriend's," Bucky tells him seriously.

Clint grins. "You smooth talker, you. Tell you what. We come back from this op safe and sound, I'll take you out for burgers and shakes. Sound good?"

"You askin' me out on a date, Barton?"

"No, Barnes, I'm  _telling_ you that we're going on one."

Bucky considers it. "Done," he says in the end. "Only if you let me take you to a baseball game next week, though."

Clint's smile widens, setting his eyes alight. "Sounds like a plan," he says. "Now, you ready to kick ass, or what?"

Bucky stands, and holds out his hand to Clint. "Yeah," he says, and realizes he means it. "Yeah, I am. Betcha I can hit more targets than you."

"Fifty dollars says you're wrong," Clint answers, taking his hand and letting himself be pulled up. 

"It's on," Bucky says. He doesn't let go of Clint's hand, instead using his own momentum to pull him in. "Thanks, by the way, sweetheart," he says, and kisses Clint softly. "Needed that."

"I know," Clint replies, and grins against Bucky's lips. "I know you did."

"I got this, huh?" Bucky says.

"You do," Clint confirms, and kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> look, this is unbeta'd, and i'm high on flu meds, so please be kind to me, ok? thank.
> 
> love,  
> remy


End file.
